Thalia's Gavotte: Fire
by The Suffering Muse
Summary: *First in a soon-to-be three-part series. Takes place before and during X2* The actions of two people can change an entire reality... Especially if they're a Dimension-Hopping fanfiction author and her muse
1. Default Chapter

Thalia's Gavotte: Fire Chapter One: Antimony  
  
The girl's eyes narrowed. "Look, sweetie, I really appreciate all the attention, but I have a train I need to catch, so if you don't mind-"  
  
"What if I do?" he said belligerently.  
  
"What are you, like, four? You challenged me to a chess game, me against that walking pocket protector," she said, indicating the bartender's skinny nephew, "as a means of determining if I would have to pay for all this," here she indicated the remains of a buffalo chicken wing binge, "and I won. I don't see any further need for discussion." She fiddled absently with a black pawn.  
  
"You did something to me!" the kid whined.  
  
"Quite right. I gave you a sound thrashing on the battlefield that is chess. Suck it up; a failure once in a while builds character."  
  
"Jeffrey is a Chessmaster." The large man snarled through gritted teeth. "He's one of the top seventy chess strategists in the country. He doesn't fail-"  
  
"Indeed?" she raised an eyebrow. "Then what just happened?"  
  
"Your singing was distracting me!"  
  
She rolled her grey eyes in irritation. "Real Chessmasters don't get distracted. Really, this argument is making you lose face at a rapid rate." She checked her watch. "And since I wasn't bullshitting about that train, I really must be going." Before the kid could start whining again, she inhaled deeply and started to sing.  
  
"Why do I lie? Is it just to get by? If I give up my lines, Will I die? If fortunes are favoured, Then I am in labour, And I'm tryin' so hard To leave lying behind"  
  
By the time she had finished, the bartender had handed over the sixty bucks American she needed for the train, apologized profusely, and ordered his nephew to hold the door open for her. By the end of the next verse, neither remembered her at all.  
********* Camille was waiting for her at the station, reading, "Theories of Bio- Optic Camouflage Mutation." "You're late," she murmured, shifting her baggage so her friend could sit. "Barkeep got shirty," she explained. "And you put the whammy on him, taking all the money in the cash register." Her companion finished. "I did not!" the shorter girl looked offended. "I only took enough for our tickets. I always leave them enough to last till the end of the week." "You're too young to be in a bar, anyway."  
  
"And I wasn't. I was in a pub. There's a difference." Her fellow DH raised an eyebrow. "However subtle it may be." Camille sighed, and returned to her book.  
*********  
  
"I still don't see why we can't just do a bunnyhop," the grey-eyed girl muttered, staring out the window at the farmland whooshing past. "One; the smaller the distance, the harder it is to hop. In order to land on the property, we'd need exact coordinates so that we wouldn't land on someone and bash their pretty skull in. Two; Doing so would make anyone who saw us distrust us immediately. Three; if you don't stop talking to thin air, people will stare." Indeed, people were already beginning to look at her talking to what was to their eyes an empty seat. She waved cheerfully, and they turned away quickly, embarrassed. "Ticket, please." She handed it over.  
"ID?" She smiled. "Thank you for assuming I'm over 18, but it seems you are mistaken. I recently had to suffer through a 15th birthday party." His expression didn't change. "This line requires all passengers to have identification as proof that they do not pose a threat to anyone on board."  
  
She scowled. "Translation; you don't want any problems with mutants that could cause bad press." She passed him a small card.  
  
Starlight Private Academy of the Arts  
Student ID  
  
Student No.: 843221  
  
Name: Musesinger, Fire  
  
Age: 15  
  
Eyes: Grey  
  
Hair: Brown  
  
Height: 5'4"  
  
Weight: 130 lbs.  
  
Extracurricular: Drama Club, Archery and Fencing Sisterhood  
  
He inspected it for a minute, then reluctantly handed it back.  
  
"Musesinger? What is that, German? Austrian?"  
  
She glared. "It's English. Muse. Singer." She leaned back in her seat, and gave him a look that clearly stated that the subject was closed. He grunted, and moved on.  
*********  
When they finally got to the station, the 5'4" brunette could stand her friend's silence no longer. "Okay, Va-Camille. I think we both need to sit down, and collectively decide how we're going to go about this." Pulling the raven-haired shifter over to a bench, she sat. "Now, this is the movie-verse, so we don't have to worry about any inaccuracies on our part-" "Definitely not," Camille said dryly. "Considering you've seen it eight times." "Six," the brunette corrected absently. "And we know that we're about a week away from X2, right?"  
  
"Correct."  
  
"Two weeks before Logan comes back from Alkali Lake."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So what do we do?"  
  
"I have no earthly idea."  
  
Grey Eyes sighed deeply. This was something she did well and often; she scarcely noticed when she did it now.  
  
"Okay, do we pull a 'mystery fangirl' or go directly to Mutant High?"  
  
"Ooh, mystery fangirl!"  
  
"Neat. So, we'll need a few illegal government codes-"  
  
"They're right here in my iBook."  
  
"Camille Georgette Leon, you have a devilish streak longer than the fuzzball's tail."  
  
"He's not fuzzy in this reality though, more's the pity."  
  
"Ah, well. Can't have everything." 


	2. Xenon

Author's Note: Okay, I forgot to do this last chapter, so I have to remember now. First of all, I'm sorry I didn't update sooner. High school teachers are evil, and not the good sexy Bakura evil, but the 'muahaha, load up the kids with fraction and exponent division homework!' evil. Okay, disclaimers. "Why Do I Lie?" is a very good song by Luscious Jackson. The X- Men belong to Marvel, but one day, Remy and Kurt will bow down before me in worship! Mweeheehee! Sorry it's short.  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Xenon  
  
Charlie didn't especially like his job. First of all, he had the night shift, which meant he had practically no time to spend with Stephanie or the girls. Also, when he'd gotten into this business, he thought he'd end up working someplace normal; a bank, or maybe Toys 'R' Us. He certainly never thought he would be assigned to guarding a man who was older than his father, separated from him by only a few feet of plastic. When he'd asked Louie, the boss, about it, the only answer he'd gotten was, "Just do what old man Striker says when he comes in, and keep your mouth shut." After a while, he'd gotten used to it.  
  
Well, not the whole 'no iron whatsoever' rule; Charlie was fond of belt buckles involving the State of Texas.  
  
The doors slid open. Max came in carrying a long paper box. He grunted. "Evenin', Chuck." Charlie pointed at the box. "That clean?" "'Spect so. Came from Striker's office by courier." Just to be sure, Charlie put it through the scanner. Came up clear. He nodded at Max, who flipped the door release switch.  
  
Neither of them had the slightest clue that all the box contained was a bouquet of long stemmed white roses and a small card reading, "Soon." Even if they had known, they wouldn't have gotten the joke. The Buffy fanatic sealed in the plastic prison, however, found it exceedingly amusing. 


End file.
